Foster Child
by LEXIRENT97
Summary: Maureen and Joanne become foster parents. Sorry, I' m bad at summaries, the story is better than it looks. My first fanfic, R&R please! Rated T to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

**Ok, well, this is my first published fic, about Maureen and Joanne, now foster parents, caring for their first kid. Enjoy, R&R PLEASE!**

"CAN YOU BELIEVE WE'RE ACTUALLY DOING THIS?!?!?!" screamed Maureen, freaking out as usual.

"Calm down", giggled Joanne, who was as equally excited herself. "I'm pretty sure our whole building can hear you!"

Maureen Johnson, an aspiring performance artist and girlfriend of Joanne Jefferson, lawyer, lived together in Alphabet City, experiencing the fully amazing bohemian lifestyle. They were so different, yet they made the best couple. Maureen was impulsive and easily excitable, Joanne was more calm and rational. Recently, they had decided to take a bold step into the world of foster parenting, and their first foster child would be moving into their apartment in… Joanne looked at her watch. Five minutes.

"I'm nervous." Joanne said quietly. "The kid's had a tough life. What if it's turned her into some kind of monster?"

Maureen stared at Joanne like she had two heads. "She's a nine-year-old girl!" Maureen said dryly. "I bet she very sweet and innocent. And remember, if it doesn't work out, we'll only have her for four months!"

Joanne wasn't completely reassured, so she tried to see things from this kids point of view.

The girl they were taking in had had a tough life. She had lived in a ramshackle apartment her whole life, and she was always sick and never had the money for almost anything. Her father was insane and killed her mother when she was only five years old, and he continued to abuse her until he died last year of a drug overdose. The poor girl had been bouncing around from family to family for the past year and a half, never finding a nice life.

The ring of a doorbell interrupted Joanne's train of thought. "I'll get it!!!" squealed Maureen with ecstasy.

Maureen opened the door to find a large black man with a buzz cut, wearing a suit and carrying a brown briefcase. At his side was a young, short girl with a round, pale face and wide blue eyes. She had red curls that surrounded her face, and she wore white jeans and an oversized sweatshirt that read "NYC" across the front.

"Hello, I'm Mr. Williams of the department of Orphans and Foster Care **(A/N: I don't care if that's not what it's called, I couldn't find a real name. If anyone knows, please tell me!) **He motioned to the young girl at his side. "And this is Sam" he then added "Your new foster child."

**So what did ya think? R&R please! I welcome criticism as well, as long as you tell me what to fix. But I also enjoy compliments more! Ugh, I'm rambling, sorry. So R&R!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey readers! Wow, 4 reviews already? Shout-out to CalZonaMojofan, LilaCaffee, anastastiaofbohemia, and Fangirl44! Cyber-cookies for you guys! Anyway, sorry my opening chapter was so short. I'll try to make this one a little longer.**

Sam. An innocent-looking, sweet-faced, puppy-dog-eyed girl stood before Maureen and Joanne, and the significance of this moment finally hit them. This was their _foster child! _The sweet, innocent child they would be taking care of for four whole months!

Mr. Williams began to speak. "This is her third foster home since her father died, and she's a little bit emotionally unstable.

"What do you mean by 'unstable'?" Joanne asked worriedly.

"Oh, it's nothing at all to concern yourselves over. However, it still hurts her to talk about it, so if you guys could avoid the topic and comfort her whenever she brings it up or seems especially down. I didn't mean she has any mental problems. She's just a very sweet, confused girl" Mr. Williams replied.

Tentatively, Sam flashed a tiny smile at Maureen and Joanne, then ran back to hide behind Mr. Williams.

"Aww!" gushed Maureen. "Just look at that face, Pookie!"

Mr. Williams pulled Sam aside to talk to her and say goodbye. Joanne relaxed a little. The kid was shy and sweet. She wasn't obnoxious, violent, or hurtful. She took a deep breath. _This shouldn't be too hard,_ she reasoned with herself. _Maureen deals with her in the mornings and afternoons while I'm at work, and Maureen will help me at night. This won't be too bad. I can do this. _As much as she hated to admit it, she was glad Maureen had to do almost all the work.

"Bye, I'll miss you" said Sam's soft voice as she hugged her social worker goodbye.

"Don't forget, I'll be here to check in in two months, and if you need me, just call. Bye, Sam."

And with that, Mr. Williams got up and left the apartment, leaving Maureen and Joanne alone with Sam.

An almost painful period of awkward silence lingered heavily in the air for the world's longest five seconds. Sam was the first to speak

The innocent, shy look on her face twisted into one of hard anger and disgust. "Ok, listen here, you hobos-" Sam started to snap but was then cut off by Maureen

"I think you mean bohos!" Maureen shouted impulsively. Joanne stepped on her foot hard. "Ow!" Maureen yelped. Joanne stepped down hard again.

"Like there's a difference?" Sam snapped as she rolled her eyes. "I have endured enough pain and hardship in my life to have to put up with things I don't like, such as, I don't know, FREAKISH LESBO MOMS!"

Maureen gasped. Joanne's face crinkled with fury as she tried to calm herself down. _She's just having a bad day_, though Joanne, rationalizing yet again. _This can't be easy for her, moving into an all new life with an all new family, particularly one that works in ways she isn't familiar with. Just be firm with her, and everything might actually turn out ok._

"Ok, Sam, I understand that you might be uncomfortable with the prospect of a new life, but you have no right to talk to Maureen and I like that. Now please take a few deep breaths, try to calm down, and then we can get to know you."

Sam's eyes hardened with anger and hatred. Joanne didn't know what her problem was, but the girl looked like something Joanne has just said ticked her off, and she was about to blow.

"I DON'T WANT A NEW FAMILY! AND THE IDEA OF HAVING TWO MOMS IS TWISTED AND DISGUSTING AND YOU'RE WEIRD AND I HATE IT AND I HATE YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Sam screamed at the top of her lungs. She then stopped screaming, took a few ragged breaths, and lowered her voice to an angry growl. "You had better be nice to me, or I'm calling the cops."

"Listen Sam, you have absolutely now right to talk to us that way and if you don't stop right now-"

Sam cut Joanne off. "When I say 'Be nice to me,' I mean give me exactly what I want, when I want it, or I'm calling the cops to say that you've been abusing me."

Impulsively, Maureen cut into the conversation to make a childish comment. "If you want to the police, you would be lying." She said

Sam rolled her eyes yet again and pulled up her sweatshirt to reveal a stomach destroyed, coated with purple, back, blue, yellow, and green, tender-looking bruises with lots of veins pressed up against them. There were also blood-red scabs and open, bleeding cuts. Joanne stared at her in horror. It was the most brutal, disgusting thing she had seen in her entire life. Maureen looked like she was going to throw up, and Joanne didn't feel much better. An intense wave of nausea crashed through her stomach, and she fought the urge to puke on Sam's shoes.

Sam pulled down her shirt and looked Maureen and Joanne directly in the eyes. "And who do you think they'll believe, you, or me?" she asked in a menacing voice.

Joanne felt extremely intimidated. She knew how pathetic it was to be scared of a little kid, but it didn't stop the fear that was taking over her brain. "Who did that to you?" Joanne managed to ask.

Sam's face turned tomato red with anger. "WHAT BUSINESS IS THAT OF YOURS?!" she roared.

Maureen and Joanne were silent. Maureen stared at her feet. Sam looked pleased. "That's what I thought."

Joanne was disgusted. Just who did this girl think she was? She showed up, made homophobic hate remarks to the two women, threatened and blackmailed them into being her personal servants, and possible scarred Maureen and herself for life with her scars? _Stand up to her! _Joanne told herself. _Do something!_ But Joanne just somehow couldn't bring herself to do it.

Sam broke the tension by strolling out of the room with her Kipling backpack into the guest room that she would be sleeping in for the duration of her stay at the apartment.

Maureen shot Joanne al look of pure terror and panic. Joanne closed her eyes and sighed through her teeth. It was going to be a loooong four months.

**Sooooo… What did you think? Please please please review, if you do, I will subscribe to you, read all your stories, and review every chapter! Pinky-swear!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey, faithful readers! Sorry for going so long without an update, but I've been super busy lately. Well, here's chapter 3. Shout-out to my biggest fans so far, CalzonaMoJoFan and Fangirl44, and anyone else who has reviewed me! Luv u guys. Well, here goes.**

"Oh God, I knew we shouldn't have done this! The kid is an absolute nightmare, you hear me? She's going to kill us in our sleep! We'll never be able to deal with her! She's a nine-year-old and she's SCARY! Does this feel like that movie "The Good Son" to anyone else?" Maureen was venting in an absolute panic.

"Relax, Maureen. She's probably just going through a rough period, and this is just a major mood swing." Joanne was trying not to let on that she was also scared of Sam and didn't believe her own words. "We just need to lay down the law about what we do and don't accept in this house, but try not to be too harsh as she's very sensitive and this is only her first day here."

"But what if it doesn't work? _Then _what will we do?"

"I'm sure you'll figure something out"

"I'll figure something out? But we're in this together!"

"Well, I've got work now!"

And with that, Joanne strolled out the door with her briefcase in hand, once again thanking God that she wouldn't have to be home all day like Mo, dealing with this messed-up disaster of a kid.

Maureen sighed and strolled into Sam's bedroom. Her face was red with anger. Her backpack lay on the floor, and she was stretched out across the bed. Maureen sat down on the edge of the bed next to her, looking her straight in the eyes. Then she launched into her first ever parental lecture. Oh, God help me, she thought.

" Look, I know you're probably nervous here, and I don't blame you, but that was no excuse to treat Joanne and I the way you did. If this kind of behavior keeps up, we are going to send you back to the foster care agency, and we are not afraid of your blackmailing. You can't treat us like your own personal slaves."

Sam glared angrily at Maureen. "I'm not speaking to you," she grumbled mildly. Maureen took that as a "Ok, I agree to this, but not happily." And that was enough to satisfy her.

"So, do you want to see the city with me? I'll introduce you to all our friends. I know they've been dying to meet you." Maureen said. In her head she added, _Well at least they want to meet you if I don't tell them what a pain you are._

Sam stood and sullenly followed Maureen out of the apartment to their tiny Ford Taurus in the parking garage.

TIMEPASSESTHINGSHAPPEN.

At the loft, everyone was standing around, waiting for Maureen to show up with the foster child. Collins was lying on the couch, absent-mindedly chewing the end of a pen and talking to the rest of the gang. Mimi, Roger, and Angel were pathetically attempting to bake a cake for Sam, celebrating her arrival. "I didn't know you guys could cook," said Mark over the top of his newspaper. "We can't," Mimi replied as she attempted the write the M in "Welcome Sam" on top of the cake. A knock on the door rang through the loft, and Mark ran to get it. Maureen and Sam stood together in the doorway.

"Awwwwww!" gushed Angel.

"She's adorable!" Mark put in.

The whole boho gang stood in a line through the living room and smiled at Sam.

"Ok, in order, this is Collins, Angel, Mimi, Roger, and Mark." Said Maureen, motioning to each person as she said his or her name.

After a minute or so of Sam staring at and scrutinizing each person she said, "OK, I think I got it." And in the same order as Maureen, she motioned to everyone as she said, " Creepy homo, drag queen, hooker, emo, nerd. I was right, wasn't I?"

Everyone glared at Sam, who smirked proudly as Maureen turned a thousand shades of red. "Um, a-all she m-means is…" Maureen stammered meekly, then she turned and gave Sam an angry death glare. She couldn't believe it. The minute Sam finally seemed like she had started behaving, she turned around and humiliated Maureen and her friends.

"Well, it's obvious that Collins is gay by the way he has his hands all over Angel." Sam stated. Collins blushed. He'd only been ever so slightly touching his arm. But it was true.

"It's obvious that Angel is a drag queen because he's wearing heels." Angel blushed and looked at her feet. She hadn't even realized she was wearing them.

"Mimi is pretty obviously a hooker because she's pretty in an overly sexy way and is barely wearing anything beside fishnets, an overly sequined bra, and way too much makeup." Mimi, too felt self-conscious, yet also victorious, because this time Sam was wrong. She hadn't gotten a chance to change after work yet, which was why she was dressed like that.

"Roger's emo because he's wearing grungy, depressing clothes and keeps his guitar close by constantly." Roger then realized most of his clothes were from his post-April, pre-Mimi days of depression.

"And Mark's a geek because of his… everything." Sam finished, wrinkling her nose. "Either way, you're all losers, and now I understand where my… foster parents get it." Sam had faltered briefly on what to call Maureen and Joanne. "And I'm not going to waste my time talking to you." Sam ran out the door of the loft and disappeared, with Maureen shortly on her heals.

A moment of awkward silence hung in the loft. "Well, that was…" Mark started.

"Awful" said Roger flatly.

"Humiliating" Mark added

"Enough to make me hate the kid." Mimi finished.

"Poor Maureen and Joanne." Angel put in softly.

**Wow, sorry I keep writing such short chapters! I will try to write a longer one next time!!! R&R! I BEG OF YOU!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey, my readers of awesomeness! Chapter four will be from Sam's POV, which should be interesting. Shout outs to CalzonaMojoFan, Maureen Elphaba Thropp, ColdAsIceGirl, evershort, Fangirl44, lianaluvsrent, Imagination Genius, and SPEEEEEEEAK for reviewing. I own nothing.**

_**Sam's POV**_

All my life, I've been nothing but a punching bag.

It started back when I was five, living with my birth parents. Neither one of them had a college degree, and we were poor and had nothing. My dad was an alcoholic and heroin addict, and my life was basically torture. Then one day my father killed my mom in a drunken rage, right there in front of me. I loved my mother. She was so kind and the only good thing I had ever had. I cried when she died. My whole world had come crashing down. My dad stepped menacingly towards me. " Why ya crying, little baby?" he slurred into my ear. Then he pinned me down and hit me, screaming at me to grow up. For the next two years, this became a regular routine, beating me and throwing me. I missed school constantly because I was so badly injured. I never told anyone. He said it was all my fault, that I make him do this, and I believed him. On my eighth birthday, he died on the floor with a needle at his side. After that, I was placed into my first foster home. They were nice enough, but I didn't like them. I didn't want to go to a new school, or have a baby sister, or call my foster parents "Mom" and "Dad". I behaved awfully, and it didn't take them long to get rid of me. But things didn't get better. They only got worse. My other foster families hit me hard, made me sleeps in closets, and blamed everything that was to go wrong on me. One family even drugged my food so that I would pass out every time I ate. I don't know what they did to me while I was unconscious, but I knew it must be bad. I became scared of eating, and that was when I began to starve myself.

This brings us to my life now. I am living with a new foster family, two lesbians. They don't seem like they would abuse me, but I can't trust them or anyone else. Nightmares of abuse still plague me every night in my sleep. This is me. A starving, 80 pound cesspit of a nine-year old, untrusting and abused, with a completely unstable life, complete with physical and emotional scars that can never be healed.

TIMEPASSESTHINGSHAPPEN

The shrill beep of an alarm clock goes off and fills the room. I wake up with a gasp, drenched in sweat from yet another terrifying nightmare. I sit up in the double bed of Maureen and Joanne's guest bedroom. My first day at yet another new school. Great. Just another day in my living hell.

My morning does not start out well. I take a shower in freezing cold water, making a mental note to Maureen and Joanne to start paying their rent so we can have hot water and heating. I mean, come on! It's the middle of January! My favorite shirt and jeans are being washed, forcing me to wear one of my less cool, grungier outfits that would brand me as a loser at any school. Lovely. There are about 50 knots in my hair when I try to comb it, and I almost miss the bus because it takes me so long to get all my school stuff together. The bus jerks to a start while I am still standing, causing me to tumble into a nearby seat, scoring a laugh from the kids around me. Humiliated, I pull a book out of my backpack and pretend to read it.

When the bus pulls up in front of an urban elementary school, consisting almost completely of cement and rusted metal, my heart seems to shatter. Kids run out of buses, hugging each other and talking a million miles a minute. Some are comparing holiday gifts, others sharing vacation stories, and almost everyone just catching up after the holidays. Everyone had a place, and I belonged nowhere. I just stood by the chain link fence and tried not to look like a loser, willing the bell to ring and signal the start of school.

I noticed a group of girls giggling and whispering, with constant glances thrown in my direction. I try not to pay attention. The group of girls then starts walking. I look at the one in front and note that she has the Claire's sunglasses I want, the big black ones with rhinestones, that I know I will never be able to have. I realize only then they that they are moving directly towards me. Oh crap. I begin to nonchalantly walk in another direction, hoping that they won't notice I'm trying to avoid them and whatever harsh comments are sure to be headed my way. Too late, I realize that the girls have changed course, and are now standing directly in front of me. " I absolutely _love _your outfit!" gushes the girl in front with the cool sunglasses.

My heart lifts. For once, someone doesn't want to insult or hurt me! She's actually being nice to me! A huge smile spreads across my face. "Really? You like it?" I ask.

"Oh, totally." The girl replies earnestly, all her friends nodding their heads in agreement. Then her face takes on a smug smirk. "How would you describe that look? Homeless chic, perhaps?" She and her friends cackle with laughter and saunter off, leaving my eyes sting with tears. _Oh, don't start crying now!_ I command myself. As if on cue, the bell rings, and I thank God for that perfect timing.

After running through the halls in search of my classroom, getting what I'm pretty sure were false directions from bypassing students, I finally reach my classroom, room 216. I try to enter unnoticed by the other students, and slip into the one empty seat in the back row. The girl next to me shoots me a friendly smile and sticks out her hand. "Hi," she whispers. "I'm Bethany". Her face and smile seem friendly enough, but looks can be deceiving, as I've learned so many times in my life.

"I'm Sam," I say shortly.

The teacher begins to speak and the kids turn their attention to her. "Class, we have a new student today. Her name is Sam, and she's a foster child living her for the rest of the year."

The words _foster child _set off some kind of wave, while my face turns over a million shades of red. Why, oh why did she have to mention the foster child thing? I could just kill her now, I really could. Glaring stares of electricity from the other students burn into me, and whispers spread through the classroom like serpents. Bethany, who had seemed friendly enough before, edged her chair away and stuck her nose in the air like I was poison. Even though math is my least favorite subject, I was relieved when we started it and the teacher told the kids to be quiet

TIMEPASSESTHINGSHAPPEN

The bell chimes through the school, signaling lunch. Lunch, where I am sure to be the butt of ridicule and insults. Just as I made it through the lunch line with my hamburger and chocolate milk, I heard a voice ringing in my direction.

"Yo, homeless!" I whirl around to face the girl who had made fun of my outfit before school this morning, her much hated posse in tow. "So, foster care, huh?" she asked, her voice sugary sweet. " Were you abandoned on the street by your unloving

parents who just couldn't except your mutated ugliness?"

On any other day, I would have let her have it. I would tear her apart and leave her in a ball of shreds when I was done. But today wasn't any other day. Because four years ago today, my mother was murdered.

Hot tears spill onto my cheeks and I make a mad dash for the girl's bathroom. Once I am safely behind a locked stall door, I pull out my notebook and blue glitter pen and begin to write. Yes, I write. Where do you think all the metaphoric language I've been using comes from? I write poetry… **STOP LAUGHING.**

I sit, my back against the cold metal stall, pen vigorously moving down the page, sobs wracking my body, tears lashing my cheeks.

**I know, not much happened. Deal with it. I just wanted to give you a little taste of what Sam is going through, so maybe everyone (as in, my readers) can respect her a little more. Longest chapter yet, so review. Whoever reviews this chapter gets shout-outs and cybercookies!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Wow, you guys, I'm sorry I was MIA for so long! I'm such a jerk! Anyway, here are the promised cybercookies for CalzonaMoJoFan, ColdAsIceGirl, Fangirl44, Imagination Genius, Tina101, SPEEEEEEEAK, evershort, guitarx, EjoIsObsessed, Broadway-Bohemian, GorgeousSmile, and obsessive-elphaba for reviewing. Also, I have a poll up on my profile that I really need you guys to vote on, so please do so!**

It was just a normal day at the loft for most of the boho's. As was the usual lately, Maureen and Joanne were missing from the group. Roger just stared at his guitar, as he had been doing for the past three hours, yet never bothering to actually pick it up. Collins and Angel were making out, off in their own little world. Mimi was complaining about the lack of food in the loft, and Mark was filming all of it. It was only 5:00 in the afternoon, but the February sun was already setting into the sky. Rain was pouring down heavily, and lightining and thunder cracked repeatedly, with Mimi jumping with every crack. Suddenly the peace was interrupted by a slamming knock on the door. Mark raan to open it, revealing Sam, drenched in rain. She did not look happy.

"The lesbos went to some protest against abortion and dumped my here for the night." Sam deadpanned. Seeing Roger's horrified expression, she added grumbling, "Don't worry. They're paying you for it." Her words were tough, but her voice sounded like she was holding back tears. Angel looked closer and saw that her cheeks were streaked with tears, and her eyes were red and swollen. Angel's heart instantly went out to her.

"Oh, honey," Angel said, her voice sympathetic, "Did you have a hard day at school?"

"Shut up and stay out of my business!" Sam snapped. She seemed to have gotten over her bout of near-tears and was back to her angry, disrespectful self.

"Ok, but just remember that if you ever need to talk about anything, I'm here."

"Do you really think out of all the people in the world, I'd talk to you?"

Angel decided to drop it after the last comment. She understood what it was like for the kid to have such a hard life. She herself had been living on the streets since she was fourteen after coming out to her homophobic family. But with each nasty comment, her patience for Sam was growing thinner and thinner.

"Do you want anything to eat?" Collins asked her.

"No, and don't talk to me anymore."

Sam reached into her backpack and pulled out its contents: A yellow folder entitled "Homework", a planner with the school logo imprinted on the front, and a basic compisition notebook with "Property of Sam Kramer. Keep out or be sliced to death in multiple gory ways." Knowing Sam, the bohos wouldn't put it past her.

Roger took the next turn at bat with this whole "Be nice to Sam" concept. He motioned to the notebbok and asked "What's that?"

"I don't see how that's any of your godd*mn business." Sam shot back

"You're nine years old! You can't use language like that!"

"Who's gonna stop me? The guy who wears 'guyliner'? You can't even stop that pathetic fashion statement! Or maybe the All-American sweet boy who's probably never done anything wrong in his life? Except for, you know, THINKING HE'S A GIRL!"

"Now wait just one minute, you witchy little homophobe-" Ange' cut in. She was now so infuriated she couldn't even bring herself to think of another comment. But Sam cut her off before she could anyway.

"You all should now that I am in CLOSE PERSONAL CONTACT with the Child Protective Services. I could report anyone at any minute, so you all better shut up and be nice to me or I'll make you regret the minute you met the homo lezzies. Are we all clear?"

Roger wasn't to about to stand here and take verbal abuse from a nine-year-old girl. "Sam you have no right to do anything like that! Apologize right this instant!" _Whatever we're getting paid to do this, _Roger thought, _is definatley not enough._

Sam grabbed the phone and made an effort of slowly dialing each digit of the phone number for Child Protective services. _No matter what she says, it will still be a lie. _ Roger tried to assure himself. Even so, what if they believed Sam over him and the bohos? After all, they weren't exactly the poster group for perfect people. Just as Sam was bout to press the final digit, Roger screamed out, "Ok, we'll all leave you alone. Just hang up the phone!" Seeming satisfied, Sam hung up. "But", Angel added, "We'll still tell Maureen and Joanne about this."

Sam grumbled, seeming to know she was defeated. She sat down and pulled a long division worksheet from her folder and stared at it for a few minutes, rubbing her forehead and looking confused. In an attempt to be polite, Mimi took a seat next to her and asked "Do you need any help with homework?"

That was the last straw for Sam. Her face turned red with anger. "I think she's gonna blow," Collins muttered to Mark under his breath.

Sam began to scream "IF I WANTED YOUR FREAKING HELP I WOULD ASK FOR IT!!!!! AND I BET YOU DON'T KNOW HOW TO DO THIS STUFF ANYWAY! IF YOU DID, YOU HAVE A REAL JOB INSTEAD OF BEING A STREET-WALIKG SLUT!!!"

Just as Sam screamed this last part, Maureen and Joanne walked through the door.

**I'm just gonna leave you guys hanging there! Reviewers get pie, cookies, and tons more cybergoodies, as a reward. Don' forget to vote on my poll! Oh and must I really say it? I don't own RENT. If I did, why would I be writing FANfiction for it?**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello faithful readers! I am UPDATING!!!!! Woo-hoo! Cybergoodies for all my reviewers! Mrs. Lovett's meat pies especially for And April Threw Rice! Anyway, this chapter is in Sam's POV, as I will be doing every other chapter now. This chap is some more plotness about Sam's school life. R&R!**

Whatever. Let the lezzies ground me for the next two weeks. I don't care. It's not like I had anything to do anyway. It's been a month and I haven't made a single friend at school yet. That girl who was teasing me, who's name I now know is Cassidy, doesn't like me, and as I've come to learn if Cassidy doesn't like you, no one does. And anyway, grounding me is stupid. I said what needed to be said and those freaks deserved it. I seriously hope they change. I know their type. They start out acting all sweet, trying to make you trust them, to love them. Then they start hitting you and locking you in closets and touching you in places adults shouldn't touch you. I wish they would just give up the act. I hate having the idea of a loving family dangled in fornt of my nose and then pulled away at the very last minute. It's a heartbreaking sensation, one that I won't ever let myself experience again. So I'll isolate myself, respond harshly to their falsely sweet advances, and make them hate me more and more. Then they'll give up the act and I'll save myself from getting attatched. And even if they did truly care about me or not want to hurt me, I'll be whisked away from them in three months anyway to a brand new torture chamber, where I'll never be able to see them again. No one will ever adopt me or take me in. I'll be bounced from place to place until I turn 18, never really finding a place to call home.

I strode into the school building for yet another day of pain. I've always hated school. I'm a terrible student. No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to get above a 60 on math tests. Science and social studies are lost on me too. The only think I'm good at is writing, but I don't try too hard or do my best work. I try to fly under the radar among my peers, and having my teachers always read my stuff aloud or tell me I'm a great writer is not the way to do it. And don't even get me started on the social thing. Between my ugly looks, bad clothes, pathetic social skills, and constant new student status, I've been a loser at every school I go to. Not that I mind. I don' want any kind of attention at all.

Today in class, we play a game. For every five answers a person gets right, we get a chocolate bar. I really want one of those chocolate bars. I haven't had candy in three years, and I haven't eaten since dinner last night, so I'm starting to feel pretty lightheaded and dizzy. These candy bars are wrapped, so there's no way they can be dangerous. And I really, really want one. As the game wears on, it gets harder and harder, and I have no idea what the teacher is talking about. This stuff is easy for the rest of the kids, but not for me. Almost everyone gets a candy bar. Everyone but me.

After school, we are all standing around the playground, waiting for our buses. I'm sitting with my head between my knees, a trick I learned from a tv show, trying to stop the waves of dizziness that are crashing through me. I've gone long times without eating before, but its never affected me this much. Suddenly, I am disturbed by a tap on my shoulder. I look up to see a girl from my class, Kendra. Kendra is pretty popular, which is understandable because she is gorgeous. Long, wavy blond hair that falls to her waist, a charismatic heart shped face, and emerald green eyes. She has rich parents and lives in a house, rather than an apartment like everyone else I know, and is wearing jeans and a very pretty Abercrombie T-shirt.

"Hi!" she chirps. "I saw you didn't get a chocolate bar in class today, and you looked hungry. Do you want mine? I've got more at home."

Her smile is so warm and friendly that I want to fall to her feet thanking her, and I really am hungry. But Kendra is one of Cassidy's friends. She will never really be nice to me. Who know what Cassidy and her evil minions might have done to this chocolate bar? Somehow though, I can't bring myself to yell in her face. Instead, I simply say, "No thanks."

But she keeps pushing on. "Your name is Sam, right?"

But before she can reply, Cassidy calls "Hey Kendra, stop talking to that loser and get over here!" God, who died and made her queen? Kendra simply gives me an apologetic smile and goes over to join Cassidy and her gang, leaving me to wonder about her. What does she want to talk to me for? What kind of huge scheme to Cassidy and her crew have cooked up for me? I don't want to be embarassed or hurt. I guess I'll just have to stay far away from Kendra from now on. Next time she tries to be nice to me, I'll really let her have it. She will be so sorry she ever messed with Samantha Mitchard.\

Only then do I realize my little conversation with Kendra has caused me to miss my bus. I try to chase it down the school driveway, but it's too late. It drives away, leaving me to walk the twenty blocks home.

I really hate New York City. The streets are dirty and crowded, the weather is usually freezing, the view is all buildings and spray paint, as opposed to something that actually looks nice. And almost everyone who lives there is a stoner, criminal, or pervert. I've dealt with enough of those last types in foster homes. When I grow up and live my own life, it sure as heck won't be here. I want to live somewhere nice and sunny. My dream is to live in Florida, by the beach in a nice suburban town where all the houses look alike and everyone is friendly. But knowing my luck, I'll live here, in some dingy, roach-filled apartment between a perevert and a serial killer's apartments.

I finally notice that a black Toyota car has been floolowing me most of the way home. Something about that car is chillingly familiar, but I can't seem to quite place my finger on it. Either way, I definatley want to get away-now. But while I'm trying to hide in an alleyway, I remember where I've seen the car. It belonged to my first abusive foster father. I swore he was an evil demon. He did things to me that he could be in jail for life for, things it causes me unbearable sobbing to think about. And sitting behind the wheel of that Toyota is Mr. Evil Demon himself. And from the look on his face, it's clear: he recongnizes me. And he's been following me most of the way to the apartment.

I run, taking many different detours and shortcuts, trying to lose him by hiding in alleys and sneaking behind builidings. When I slip in the door to the lezzies place after finally losing him, for possibly the first ime in my life, I'm completely relieved to be in my foster home. As I sit down with my homework, only one unbearable, sickining, terryfying thought runs through me mind:

My old foster father is after me.

**OK! So I'm sorry if the writing wasn't very good, I'm a little writers-bolcked in that area right now. BUT we are finally getting somewhere plot-wise! And I hope I answered the question some of you had about why Sam is being so mean to MoJo. Longest chapter yet, review! Oh, and I don't own RENT. Last week's disclaimer is credited to obsessive-elphaba.**


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